


Odds & Ends

by aeternamente



Category: Kissing in the Rain (Web Series), Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Nothing Much to Do, The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:45:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 16,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you've been following me on tumblr, you'll know that I have a habit of posting little drabbles here and there usually based on the latest updates from my favorite webseries. So now they'll all be here. There will be no attempt to make these consistent with one another. Most of them will probably end up canonballed. I'm just gonna let that be what it is.</p><p>This fic collection is now multi-fandom! Chapter titles now indicate which fandom they belong to.</p><p>NEW:<br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/627346/chapters/4038879">Inhibitions</a> (KitR): Awkwardness at the wrap party for <i>Lady Ghost</i><br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/627346/chapters/4038966">Sympathetic, Floppy Ears</a> (KitR): A dog is better than a diary<br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/627346/chapters/4519518">Sounding Familiar?</a> (KitR): Audrey's life is NOT an imitation of her brother's<br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/627346/chapters/4519554">Ignoring It</a> (NMTD): Bea is thinking about Ben differently and it has to stop</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ill-Judged Click of a Mouse (LBD)

Lizzie stared in abject horror at her computer screen. She had meant to click on the link to take her to Darcy’s twitter page (on her quest to ascertain just how likely she was to see him at work any time soon—and she’d felt weird even just doing that), but instead, she’d accidentally hit the “follow” button. She was  _following_  William Darcy. On  _Twitter_.

 _“The internet is forever,”_  Charlotte’s annoyingly practical voice echoed in her head.

Of course, Lizzie could easily unfollow him. It would take nothing more than the same click of a mouse that had gotten her into this mess. But the notification was already sent out, and would now be sitting in his inbox and probably sent to his phone.  _Oh God, he might already know._

Shouldn’t there be some kind of morning-after pill for Twitter following? Some way of erasing all evidence of what was obviously a stupid mistake? At the very least, shouldn’t Twitter have a pop-up box asking, “Are you sure you want to follow the guy you brutally rejected based on false information and misconceptions, at whose company you are now, by some malicious twist of fate, job shadowing?”  _That_  would have been helpful.

But there was nothing she could do now. The fans would have a field day with this, of course, just like the one they had upon discovering the Pemberley Digital website (or as she liked to call it, the Fansite for the Adoration of All Things Darcy), but anything she might try to say to explain the situation would make her look like a Lady that Doth Protest Too Much.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. What a way to start the new year in a new city—making herself look like an idiot with one ill-judged click of a mouse.


	2. Off Camera (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the idea for this one from [this post](http://writingjenna.tumblr.com/post/39693351550/even-thought-its-been-months-i-still-wonder-what) by writingjenna.

She turns off the camera and stands abruptly. Beside her, he is still sitting as if unable to move anything but his eyes, which dart back and forth very quickly, as if he is trying to rearrange large portions of the contents of his brain.

“Just… forget I said anything, okay?” Her voice is shaky with the aftershocks of the anger of a few moments before, combined with a newfound terror.

“What videos are you talking about?” he insists.

She groans, bringing her fingers up to her temples and rubbing vigorously. “I said forget it.”

“Lizzie, I  _can’t_  forget it.” He stands up and faces her again, anger creeping back into his voice, but stops to restrain his temper, clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath through his nose. “You dislike me. Rather strongly, it seems.”

She lets out a sardonic snort. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“And I want to know why.”

She turns and takes a few paces away from him, her hands balled up into fists, a frustrated grumbling rising in her chest. “You were never supposed to know— _you_ ,” she turns to face him, “of  _all people!_  What the  _hell_  is wrong with me?”

It is a rare moment of vulnerability for her, one that immediately loosens his clenched teeth and softens his eyes. He steps toward her. “Lizzie…” he says in a low voice.

The moment of vulnerability is over. “No!” she shouts. He recoils as if stung. “You can’t just—act all nice all of the sudden like you haven’t been just—just a complete  _ass_  this whole time.”

He is silent for several seconds, blinking rapidly, his lips pressed together. Then, he begins to speak slowly. “I am afraid you have… an incomplete understanding of me—”

“Oh, I understand you perfec—”

“No, you  _don’t_ ,” he says through clenched teeth. “And I wish you would save your judgment of me until you knew all of the  _facts_.”

She stares at him, her eyes focused and determined, and when she speaks, her voice is measured and even, but her every syllable trembles with simmering anger. “There is nothing you could say to me that could possibly change my opinion of you.”

They have reached a stalemate. His posture slumps as if he has been deflated. “I can see that there is no point in continuing this conversation. I only wish I had never begun it.”

She says nothing, continuing to glare at him. He turns to leave, stops a moment at the doorway, then, emitting a small sigh, continues out of the office and down the hall.


	3. Lunch (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write Gigi before we saw her on screen, but I maintain that this doesn't count.

“So…” Charlotte said, eyebrows waggling over her ham and swiss on rye. “You met Darcy’s sister.” She was referring to the footage Lizzie had sent of her latest video.

“Yeah,” Lizzie nodded. “She… wasn’t quite what I was expecting.”

Charlotte laughed. “You were expecting a female version of Darcy, weren’t you?”

“Either that or a younger version of Caroline.” Lizzie thoughtfully sipped at her iced tea. “But she was really… sweet.” That was a good descriptor. Sweet and friendly and intelligent… and a little sad, in a way that made Lizzie want to throttle George Wickham.

“She had a lot of very nice things to say about Darcy,” Charlotte observed, looking down at her plate. Lizzie knew that tone of voice, that sly smile.

“Of course she did, she’s his sister,” Lizzie snapped.

“So she would be an accurate judge of his character.”

“Or maybe a little biased?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Think about it, Lizzie. Bing, Fitz, and now Gigi are all very nice people that you like who like Darcy. I think they’re more likely to be right about him than you are.”

“Look, I don’t…  _hate_  Darcy.”

“After all, you do follow him on Twitter.”

“I  _told_  you, that was a mistake!”

“A mistake that would very difficult to make unless you were  _internet stalking him_.”

“I… was doing research!” Lizzie said in her defense. “I wanted to know if he would be around, which as it turns out, he won’t be.” She smiled with satisfaction. “He’s stuck in meetings in LA.”

Charlotte gave Lizzie a skeptical look as she swallowed a bite of sandwich. “For the whole semester?”

“Probably not, but at least I’ll have some time to settle in before I have to deal with the awkward, right?”

Charlotte nodded. “So how  _are_  you settling in?”

Lizzie was grateful to Charlotte for knowing when to change the subject, and delved into a full and animated description of her new surroundings.


	4. Height Differential (LBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first installment of my mini-fic-a-thon of January 6, 2013! Driven mad by Pemberley anticipation, I decided the only remedy was to ask for fic requests and write stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by [squishycupcake](http://squishycupcake.tumblr.com/): I've been pretty fixated on Lizzie and Darcy's height difference lately, and I'm struggling to figure out how are they going to make out without the poor girl getting a serious neck injure, just leaving this here (blame this on a hot day in South America + wine xD)

“It’s not fair that you’re so tall,” Lizzie said with a pout.

William smiled an raised an eyebrow the way he often did when Lizzie made a random observation like this apropos of nothing. “What’s unfair about it?” he asked.

“It means that most of the time, you get to choose when we kiss,” Lizzie explained, “because I can’t reach you unless you come down to my level.”

William’s smile widened into a grin as he bent down to touch his forehead to hers. “What—like this?”

Lizzie took the opportunity to kiss him. “Yes, like this.”

“I’m sorry my height is distressing to you,” he said before kissing her in return.

Lizzie wrinkled her nose once they’d broken apart. “It’s not  _distressing_ exactly. I mean, it’s a part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change it, it’s just… awkward sometimes.”

William chuckled at the word choice.  _Awkward, indeed._  He was aware of the…  _logistical issues_  they occasionally had to deal with. Sometimes, in an effort to pull her close to him, he would unintentionally lift her off the ground, causing her to gasp and giggle against his mouth (which he thought was adorable). But he hadn’t thought of it in this light before—that their height difference caused an inequity of opportunity in the initiation of… certain pleasurable activities.

“I’m not exactly sure how to rectify the situation,” he said with a frown.

Lizzie giggled. “I guess I’ll just have to be creative,” she said.

William quirked an eyebrow. “Should I be afraid?”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet now has an even shorter ficlet sequel: [One Step Ahead](../1149376).


	5. An Ill-Advised Business Trip (LBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More from the mini-fic-a-thon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by [stampsgal](http://stampsgal.tumblr.com/): a scene with Lizzie & Darcy and their first baby? :)

William knew he shouldn’t have gone on this business trip. Lizzie had insisted it would be fine—they were three weeks away from the due date—but he still had a terrible feeling about it.

And he’d been right.

He tapped his fingers impatiently on his arm rest as the airplane continued to taxi around the San Francisco International Airport. He was sure they’d already covered the entirety of the airfield already, and they still hadn’t reached the gate.

“You seem a little agitated,” the woman next to him observed, looking up from the book she was reading on her kindle.

“My wife went into labor,” he replied shortly. “I  _knew_  I shouldn’t have taken this trip.”

“Oh my God, congratulations!” she exclaimed.

Darcy tried to smile in thanks, but he was sure it came out as more of a grimace.

“Is it a boy or a girl, or do you know?”

“Girl.”

An older man sitting across the aisle smiled and said, “I remember when my first child was born. I was away on business and I couldn’t get a flight back home for anything…”

He launched into a story that Darcy really didn’t want to hear right now. He hated talking to people on airplanes, particularly when he had other things to think about, and right now…

He  _really_  shouldn’t have taken this trip. It was a mistake.

“… and when I finally did make it to the hospital, they wouldn’t let me into her room! Well, so much good  _that_  did.”

William nodded absently.

Finally, the pilot announced their arrival at the gate, and William was the first out of his seat, grabbing his luggage from the overhead compartment. He did his best to acknowledge the smiles and pats on the back he received as he exited the plane. He navigated his way through the terminal, over conveyor belts and up and down escalators until he found his driver waiting for him in the pick-up lane.

He urged the car forward through the streets of San Francisco with every ounce of his energy, and sprung out of the car the moment it stopped outside of the hospital.

It was all over by the time he got there. Lizzie lay exhausted on her bed, holding a squirming bundle in her arms. William’s breath caught, and after all of the time he’d spent hurtling forward toward this moment, he found himself nervously hanging back now that it was here.

Lizzie laughed (even her laugh sounded tired). “I guess you were right about the trip,” she admitted. “I wish you could’ve been here.”

William was pained to hear this. “I’m so sorry Lizzie,” he said walking toward her.

“It’s all right. Gigi and Fitz were here, and they were wonderful.”

“But I should have been here—”

“William.” she said severely. “Shut up and meet your daughter.”

William obediently knelt down beside the bed and looked at the pink-faced creature that was now his. Her eyes were closed and she was sleeping… and she was perfect. “She reminds me of Gigi when she was just born.”

“We’re not going to name her Georgiana, just so you know.” Lizzie said with a laugh. “Gigi made me promise.”

“I know,” William said. “What did we finally decide on?”

“Nadia.”

William smiled and stroked his daughter’s cheek. “Welcome to the world, Nadia.”


	6. Good Surprise/Awkward Surprise (LBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet more from the mini-fic-a-thon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by [ibmiller](http://www.ibmiller.tumblr.com): Because it's me, how about something Jane-centric? Maybe Lizzie and Jane chatting about Pemberley, or something related? Preferably something that's not obsessed with "New Jane," though. What can I say - I'm very odd.

Jane liked compiling her care packages while talking on the phone to the person she was care-packaging. She never actually told anyone she was doing this, because of course, a care package needed to be a surprise, but also because she liked having this little secret thing she did.

“Everyone is crazy nice here, and I think at this point it’s safe to say it’s not an act,” Lizzie was saying of Pemberley Digital, her new job-shadowing assignment.

“Why would you think it was an act?” Jane asked as she nestled a stuffed giraffe next to a pile of chocolate bars.

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Lizzie sighed. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting from Darcy’s company… maybe that they’d all be pretentious snobs looking down at me for, I dunno, liking popular music or not wearing designer clothes.”

“I really don’t think Darcy ever thought of you that way.”

“Even when he called me  _decent enough_?” Lizzie picked up an irritated tone of voice almost out of habit, but Jane could tell that the fire had gone out of her complainings about Darcy.

They were both silent, and it seemed that on Lizzie’s end, the silence was tense, as if she was on the brink of saying something. Jane just waited. And began filling a plastic bag with freshly-baked cookies.

“I saw him today.”

Jane didn’t need to ask who  _he_  was.

“I took my camera out to the Japanese garden, because it’s really pretty—Dad would  _love_  this garden, seriously—and because I thought it would be nice to have an episode outside for a change.”

“Oh, that  _would_  be really nice,” Jane agreed enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea, Lizzie!”

“Yeah, well anyway, I was in the middle of filming and there he was. Why does he always show up in the middle of filming? I mean, it’s not as if he even  _likes_  being on camera.”

“That _is_ a strange coincidence.” Jane said as she sealed up the bag and dropped it into the box along with everything else.

“But he didn’t seem annoyed or anything,” Lizzie continued. “Actually, he was really nice. He invited me to have lunch with him and his sister.”

“Oh,  _did_  he?” Jane teased.

“It’s—he didn’t mean—it’s not  _like_  that!” Lizzie sputtered. “There’s no way he still likes me after everything that happened.”

“Lizzie, he wants you to meet his sister. That sounds like a pretty big deal to me.”

“I’m just trying not to think about how awkward it’s going to be. I mean, what do I even say to him?”

“Talk about his company,” Jane said as she picked up the box cover and considered how she might decorate it. “Just say the things you’ve been telling me.”

“What, that I was expecting everyone to be pretentious and snobby?” Lizzie asked dubiously.

“No, all of the nice things you’ve been saying about the people and the facilities and… everything.”

“It just feels weird saying  _nice things_  to  _Darcy_ ,” Lizzie said, and Jane could just imagine the scrunched-up look on her face, as if she’d just eaten a spoonful of creamed spinach.

Jane laughed as she flipped through an origami book, looking for something pretty to adorn the box. “Well, he’s being very nice to you, so maybe it’s time you returned the favor.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Lizzie admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any less  _weird_.”


	7. Waiting (LBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final installment of the mini-fic-a-thon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by [drugstorejuliet](http://www.drugstorejuliet.tumblr.com): Could you do a hurt/comfort fluff ficlet involving either Darcy or Lizzie in the hospital?
> 
> Am I seriously writing Gigi when I promised myself I wouldn’t until we’ve seen her on screen? But this is the idea that came to me, so this is what I’m writing. Guess it ended up not being so fluffy?

Gigi was already there when Lizzie got to the hospital, sitting in one of the waiting-room seats, staring at her hands, her dark eyes unfocused and distant.

Lizzie wordlessly sat down next to her sister-in-law and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I always told him not to work so hard,” Gigi murmured, not looking up. “I told him he’d get a heart attack just like the one that killed Dad.” Tears were rolling down her face now, and Lizzie could feel her own eyes getting misty. “And he wasn’t allowed to die because he’s—” She let out a sob. “He’s the only family I have left.”

Lizzie pulled Gigi into her arms, dropping several tears of her own into her hair, saying comforting words in a shaky voice.

Gigi’s sobbing subsided. She sniffled and swiped a hand across her eyes.

Lizzie swallowed and willed herself to ask. “How is he, do you know?”

“Still alive… barely. They’re prepping him for surgery now.”

Lizzie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

And so, they waited. They spoke occasionally, but were mostly quiet. Sometimes they held each other’s hands, sometimes they hugged, sometimes one or the other of them slept for a while. But every moment was permeated with hope and fear and the endless agony of waiting.

Finally, they were approached by a doctor. “He made it through surgery,” she assured them.

They let out a relieved breath and allowed themselves to smile a little.

“But he’s not completely out of danger just yet,” she warned. “We’ll need to keep watching his vitals to see what happens.”

“Can we see him?” Gigi asked.

The doctor nodded. “Follow me,” she said.

They stood, still holding hands, and walked after the doctor, who led them through several hallways, then stood outside the door to his room. They looked at each other, steeled themselves, and entered.


	8. Operation Candid Camera (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonballed almost immediately after I wrote it by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/ggdarcy/status/289473811605225475), but I really loved writing the Darcy sibling dynamic.

_“Operation Candid Camera is a success! I believe a celebratory dinner is in order?”_

Gigi grinned at her phone as she hit the send button.

 _“Sending to Fitz,”_  her phone helpfully informed her. Now for a quick escape—

“Gigi!”

Gigi recognized William’s  _you’re in trouble_  voice. She turned around slowly, arranging her face into the most innocent of smiles. “Yes, dear brother?”

“What the  _hell_  was that?”

Okay, maybe Gigi’s smile wasn’t so innocent anymore, as she was now fighting back laughter. “Well you know,” she responded, “Lizzie’s been here four whole days, and you hadn’t talked to her yet—”

“Because I was in LA!”

“—and I thought it would be nice if the two of you could catch up.”

William pursed his lips together and breathed out heavily through his nose. “So you decided to drag me to her office and leave the moment you got me there?  _While_  she was filming? You know how I feel about being on camera.”

“You have a reputation to rehabilitate!” Gigi reminded him. “You didn’t exactly make a great first impression on her videos.”

“You could have warned me.”

“What? So you’d back out?”

“Exactly.”

“Reason number eight why William Darcy is perpetually single…”

William gaped at her. “Did… you just quote Lydia?”

Gigi’s phone buzzed.

_“Victory! See you at our rendezvous in 5 minutes.”_

Gigi grinned.

“Who’s that from?”

“Oh…” She’s terrible at lying, so… “It’s from… Fitz.”

William blinked and nodded. “He’s in on it too, isn’t he?”

“No! He’s just—”

“I’m going home,” William said abruptly. “Is there anything in particular you’d like for dinner?”

“Oh… I’m eating out tonight…” Gigi said uncertainly. William was calming down, but he also seemed to be turning inward, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid. “I’m going out with Fitz… you can come too if you—”

“No, I wouldn’t be any fun,” he said with a rueful half-smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.” On an impulse, Gigi launched herself into her brother’s arms. “You know I just want the best for you, right?”

William held her close. “I know.”


	9. Unfinished (LBD)

Lizzie looks down at the camera she just turned off, trying to understand what just happened. She’d just touched Darcy. No, that’s not an accurate way of describing it—she’d reached out and  _grabbed_  his arm.  _Darcy’s_.

Had she never noticed before today the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt? He’s a surprisingly well-built man, an observation startlingly reinforced by the tactile memory of his arm muscle that remains imprinted on her palm and fingers.

She forces herself to look up, and he is much closer to her than she expected him to be. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this close before, close enough to see the subtle variations of color in the clear blue of his eyes. But that’s nothing to what happens a second later, when he’s suddenly kissing her, his hands  _so_  gently stroking her face, hovering around her ears.

She really doesn’t know what it is about this man that gets her to give in to him without even thinking. That’s what happened when he asked her to dance at Bing’s birthday party, and now here she is, not pulling away—actively  _participating_  in this kiss.

Her hands are half a moment away from running up his chest and locking behind his neck when he stops. Seriously, he pauses right in the middle of the kiss—their lips are still touching, he’s just… gone still. She can feel the frown on his face, and a moment later, he’s stepped back, eyes fixed on the ground, saying nothing.

There’s no way to classify the sound that comes out of her throat. She’s pretty sure she meant to ask,  _“What was that?”_  but she has very minimal control over her vocal cords.

“I’m sorry, that was…” He clears his throat and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “That was rather…  _forward_.”

Even through all of the layers of shock and confusion, she still has the presence of mind to be amused at his weirdly archaic word choice. “Yeah…” she says, her voice coming out much higher than usual. “It was, a bit…”

“I’m sorry,” he says redundantly, drawing his eyes back up to meet hers with that completely new expression. This is not the transfixed, slightly terrified stare she’d come to know at Netherfield, but something softer, more inviting, but still hesitant, unsure. “I’ll just…” He gestures toward the door, then walks toward it and exits the office without finishing his sentence…

…or his kiss.


	10. One Step Ahead (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [Height Differential](1137056), and I suppose the antithesis of the trapped-in-the-elevator genre.

Lizzie made a New Year’s resolution to make a habit of taking the stairs instead of the elevator, and William, being William, started taking the stairs with her when they got to work in the morning.

At first, Lizzie just smiled at the sweetness of the gesture, but then, quite suddenly (in the middle of a flight of stairs), inspiration struck. She stopped exactly where she was, and stopped William on the stair below her with a palm to the chest.

“What—?”

“I’ve figured it out!” Lizzie proclaimed gleefully, moving in front of him, one step higher.

“Figured out what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smile.

“The solution to our height differential problem.”

“Which is…?”

“To be one step ahead of you.” With that, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him (without having to pull him down by grabbing his shoulders or his tie).

After that, they tacitly agreed never to take the elevator again.


	11. What's in a Name? (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep writing these things! I can’t seem to stop! I stole Gigi's middle name from TheGreatSporkWielder's [Thank Goodness for Little Sisters](../../633796) (because Sporky is my inspiration in all things ficcy). Also, there’s more of Gigi being the embodiment of the fandom.

Lizzie has somehow found herself in the middle of a Darcy sibling battle of wills, made all the more awkward because Lizzie herself was the subject of disagreement.

“Of course I care what you think, Gigi,” Darcy said, “but on such matters I would  _prefer_  to be able to make my own decisions.”

“But you’ll only make  _lame_  decisions,” Gigi countered.

Darcy opened his mouth to retort—

“If you’re about to call me by my full name, I’ll call you by yours,” Gigi warned with a glance toward Lizzie, “and yours is much more embarrassing.”

Something shifted in Darcy’s expression—his eyes went from stern to… amused? He glanced at Lizzie as well, looking almost as if he were sharing a joke with her, then opened his mouth, and with a quirk of his eyebrow, said, “ _Georgiana Catherine Darcy_.”

“ _William Fitzwilliam Darcy_ ,” Gigi responded gleefully.

Lizzie couldn’t help it—the laugh escaped from her before she could even think, and once it started, it just kept going. Maybe it was the tension of the situation that was causing her to double over and tear up with her sustained laughter, but whatever it was, it was contagious because soon, both Darcy and Gigi joined in (had she ever seen Darcy laugh before?—certainly not like this).

“How in the world did you end up saddled with a name like  _that_?” Lizzie asked once she had regained the ability to breathe.

“Family tradition,” Darcy answered, still smiling. “The first son in the Darcy family is named William after a long line of Williams (I’m the seventh), and is given the mother’s maiden name as a middle name. In my case, the two names had a certain unfortunate similarity, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“Um, yes it could,” Lizzie countered. “They could’ve named you something else.”

“You obviously don’t know our family,” Gigi said with a smirk. “Just you wait, there will be a William Bennet Darcy in the world soon enough.”

“Gigi!” Darcy and Lizzie reprimanded in unison.

Gigi laughed. “I regret nothing.”


	12. Twice (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to try narrating in the second person.

Twice.

That’s twice now in the two times you’ve seen him that you thought about about kissing him. (Just thought. You haven’t gotten anywhere near acting on it. It’s Darcy, after all.)

It’s that stare. He doesn’t even try to hide his interest—his eyes so clearly communicate a frank and unabashed admiration, and it feels nice, okay? And there’s something about that stare that’s terrifying, but draws you in, that makes you want to look anywhere else and nowhere else, and sometimes it makes you want to look at his mouth instead.

And both times that’s happened, you’ve caught yourself and directed your thoughts elsewhere, trying to continue the conversation as if that unsettling, terrifying, dizzying, intriguing thought had never entered your head, hoping that he doesn’t notice the way your voice has suddenly gone stilted, the strange difficulty you have with getting your words out, the way the idea is still hovering around the edges of your mind.

And it doesn’t help that every time you see him, he impresses you with how kind and thoughtful he can be, that he appears to have a subtle and intelligent sense of humor (easy to miss if you’re not paying attention, or are willfully ignoring it), that he’s a fan of Dr. Gardiner’s work (and a part of you wonders if he only follows her work because of you, but that’s crazy and selfish and he is head of a media company, after all).

But what scares you most is that maybe, the third time you think about kissing him, you won’t be able to stop yourself from acting on it.


	13. Honesty (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another post-ep. 80 second-person fic. This time, Darcy's POV.

_“Would you want your best friend to see you confess to meddling in his affairs?”_

If there’s anything you regret about the conversation of the past few minutes, it’s this. You don’t regret  _saying_  it—the costume theater was meant to be an opportunity to be completely honest, and those words were honest—but you regret the cowardice those words betrayed.

You gave other reasons, good reasons, for not telling Bing about the videos—the impropriety of revealing secrets that are not yours to tell, the ease with which Bing had been separated from Jane, the fact that both you and Lizzie are uncertain as to whether Jane would take Bing back. But you’re starting to wonder if these are less  _reasons_  than  _rationalizations_ , part of a facade to cover your true motivation—that you don’t want Bing to think badly of you.

Bing has always looked up to you, respected you, come to you for help when he has needed it, and you have done your best to live up to his high opinion, his complete trust in you. And now that you’ve failed him, you’re afraid to let him see your weakness, your fallibility.

And you’re suddenly struck by how unhealthy this is. This is not how a friendship should be. You’ve seen Lizzie’s friendship with Charlotte in the videos, a friendship of equals, based on mutual understanding and respect, a friendship that stands in such stark contrast with your own. You call a man your best friend, and yet you can’t trust him to make his own decisions, to see you for who you really are, flaws included.

Reaching your office, you sit down, set the newsie cap on your desk, and pull out your phone. You contemplate it for a moment before finding Bing’s number from the contact list.

_Ring… ring… ring…_

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

“Bing…” You hesitate. But now is the time for honesty, so you take up the newsie cap from your desk and place it on your head. “There’s something I need to tell you…”


	14. Good Different (LBD)

“Oh my God!” Gigi exclaimed as she scrolled down on her phone. “My twitter followers are freaking out about your scarf and glasses, William.”

Darcy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, judging from the tweets, there’s a lot of laughing and hyperventilating. And calling you a hipster.”

Darcy looked annoyed, and Gigi was right, he did pull his chin back into his neck when he was uncomfortable. Lizzie couldn’t hold back a rather undignified snort of laughter, which earned her a glare from Darcy.

“I don’t understand why my glasses would have that kind of an effect,” Darcy protested.

“You know,” Lizzie mused, “I don’t actually think my viewers have seen you wearing glasses before. They do make your face look… different.”

Darcy shot her a quizzical look. “Good different or bad different?”

Lizzie shrugged, not quite willing to admit that it was  _very good_  different. “I don’t know, just… different. Do you usually wear contacts?”

“Yes, but sometimes on the weekends I would rather not be bothered with it.”

“Understandable.”

Darcy nodded and fell into a brooding silence. He seemed to be trying to come to a conclusion. Finally he turned to Gigi and said, “If it’s all the same to you, I would rather not be featured in any future pictures today.”

Gigi looked stricken. “Oh, but William, the viewers—”

“They’ll survive.”

“But—”

“ _Gigi_ …”

Gigi pouted. “Fine.”

Darcy nodded again and looked out over the balcony. Gigi caught Lizzie’s eyes and, with a raised eyebrow, drew her hand up from under the table, to reveal her crossed fingers.


	15. Won't Be Long (LBD)

“So what do you think?” Fitz asked over the phone. “You’re the one who spent the whole day with them.”

Gigi was grinning like a madwoman. “I think it won’t be long now.”

“Oh?” Gigi could hear a similar grin in Fitz’s voice.

“You saw that first picture I posted? The one where Lizzie’s…  _looking_  at him?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Fitz practically shouted.

“Well, there was a lot of that.”

“ _Yeah_  there was, ‘cause obviously, she can’t get enough of the Darce-man.” Fitz gave a triumphant laugh. “Way to work your magic, G-to-the-D, how ‘bout a long-distance high five?”

Gigi giggled and slapped her palm against the thin air above her head.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“I guess we wait,” Fitz reasoned. “Barring any unforeseen catastrophes, they should be able to work things out on their own.”

“Let’s hope so…”


	16. Channeling Energy (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written before today's episode, but I still think it's plausible.

The first time Lydia watched Lizzie’s videos from Pemberley, she hated Gigi Darcy. Gigi Darcy who was perfect in all the ways Lydia wasn’t; the chic, successful, carreer-minded young woman that Lizzie obviously wished she had as a little sister instead of the “boy crazy, completely irresponsible substance abuser.” Gigi Darcy who said all of those horrible things about George, those horrible things that Lizzie believed.

Even after she saw the website for the sex tape, she’d been convinced for a while that George couldn’t be the one behind it. Someone had broken into his apartment and stolen that tape. Someone was exploiting the both of them. She’d cried into his chest for hours about it. He’d said all the right things, rubbed her back, and kissed the top of her head, told her he’d find a way to fix this, to protect her. When she asked him about Gigi, he admitted to doing what she said he’d done, but only because he knew she could never really love him if Darcy was against it, and that it was best to make a clean break of it, even if it meant she would hate him in the end.

I mean, that was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

She later learned that he’d staged the break-in at his apartment, that he’d never really cared for her, or Gigi, or Lizzie, that everyone else was right, and Lydia was wrong, and the first and only man she’d ever allowed herself to love had taken her sincere expression of that love and made it public for the world’s entertainment.

That’s when she locked herself in her room, where her only contacts with the outside world were her shouted insistences for Lizzie or Jane or whoever was knocking to go away and leave her alone, and her obsessive and repeated viewings of Lizzie’s Pemberley videos. She didn’t know why she kept watching them. They were painful to watch, but then again, everything was painful, so she might as well.

She watched her sister being slowly but inevitably drawn toward Darcy, the awkward, nerdy, pretentious hipster who somehow managed to show a sensitive side that Lydia (and Lizzie) had never witnessed before, whose every word and movement spoke of the gargantuan effort it took for him to resist making out with her big sister right there in front of the camera (which, on the one hand…  _ew_ , but on the other hand, Lizzie totally should’ve got herself some Darce-cake action while she had the chance, but probably didn’t, reason number thirty-two and all that…).

She watched Bing Lee be all weird and cryptic, and possibly still in love with Jane, which, what the hell? For the first time in a long time, she found herself emphatically agreeing with Lizzie—call Jane already you dumbass. People screw around with each other’s feelings enough in this world. Why would you do it when you actually really like each other? She supposed that was true for Lizzie and Darce-face too. But then again, it was Lydia’s sex tape fiasco that really was at fault in keeping them apart, which made her feel a sort of murky jitteriness in her stomach, like butterflies being drowned in molasses or something. So she stopped thinking about it and hit the link for the next video.

Then there was Gigi. And every time Lydia saw her on screen, she liked her a little more. On screen, she smiled and sparkled, engineered the situation to suit her purposes, and literally shoved her big brother around. Ironic, wasn’t it, that Darcy had once derisively called  _Lydia_  “energetic,” when he had  _Gigi_  for a little sister himself. But there was more to Gigi than just her energy—there was someone who had been hurt, but was continuing to live her life in a way Lydia could only dream of. And now that she knew what a douchecanoe George really was, she couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship to this girl who had once heard and believed all the same lines…

There was another knock at her bedroom door.

“I said go away!” she yelled.

“Lydia?” That voice didn’t belong to Jane or Lizzie. If she hadn’t just been listening to that voice through her earbuds, she wouldn’t have believed it, but… “It’s… Gigi Darcy. You probably don’t know me—”

Lydia opened the door and Gigi cut off abruptly. She was, predictably, looking ridiculously well put together in a green flapper hat and matching dress, fixing Lydia with a cool gray stare. Lydia looked down at her own wrinkled two-day-old pajamas and could sense the frizz and grease in her unkempt hair, and she felt intensely inferior. But she brought her eyes back up to meet Gigi’s. “I know who you are,” she said. Then she turned and headed back to sit on the edge of her bed, leaving her door open as a tacit invitation.

Gigi took the hint and sat in the chair Lydia often used for filming. “I feel like I should be doing a Q and A video or something,” she said with a nervous laugh.

Lydia managed a weak smile, but her face fell back into impassivity. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, gesturing around her room, which was indeed strewn with clothes and papers and dirty dishes.

Gigi waved her off. “Oh, I’ve seen worse,” she said quickly. Then giving her a meaningful look, “I’ve  _been_  worse.”

Lydia found that difficult to believe. She knew in a hypothetical way that Gigi Darcy had had her heart broken, but somehow the mechanics of it—the guilt, the stupor, the aversion to social interaction and personal hygiene—it all seemed so far removed from the perfect little creature sitting before her with matching lip gloss and nail polish, and wearing that pitying expression, that stupid pitying expression that was on everyone’s faces lately.

“Why are you here?” Lydia asked.

Gigi bit her lip. “I need your help,” she answered.

“ _My_  help? What do you— _why_?”

“Listen, Fitz and Brandon and I, we’ve been trying to take down that website, the one with… you know, the tape, and it would really help if we could get into some of George’s accounts… and I’ve seen the videos, you’re really good with knowing passwords you’re not supposed to know, and I thought—”

“Oh, that…” Lydia said dismissively. “That’s just my sisters’ passwords. I’ve known them all my life.”

“And  _I’ve_  known George all my life.” Gigi quirked a characteristic Darcy eyebrow (seriously, they probably have it patented or something). “I think together, we should be able to come up with something.”

Lydia blinked, considering the proposition, then felt a devious smile spread across her face.  _It’s payback time, G-dubs._  ”Okay, tell me everything. Don’t leave out the embarrassing stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still mourning the loss of Jordan (who was, until today, my head canon for Fitz’s boyfriend—fiance, actually, since in my head canon, they got engaged on New Year’s), but I guess we’ll see what happens with this Brandon character…


	17. Time Off (LBD)

Jane hesitated at her boss’s open door. This was not going to go over well, but what could she do? Lydia needed her, and Lizzie… she couldn’t stay here while her family was hurting.

She knocked on the door frame.

“Jane,” her boss greeted her. “How are those wardrobe inventories coming?”

“Almost finished, Mr. Davis,” Jane replied dutifully, “but there was something… else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Can you make it quick? I’ve got a lot to do.”

“I uhh… I know this isn’t a good time, but…” She took a steadying breath. “I need some time off.”

Mr. Davis blinked at her. “Time off?” His brows knitted together. “You mean… after Fashion Week?”

“No, I need to go home now. There’s been a… a family emergency.”

“A family emergency? What, did someone die?”

“No—”

“Then what kind of family emergency is more important than doing your job?”

Jane sighed. This was going to be the worst part. “I can’t tell you. It’s—it’s personal.”

“It’s personal?” He let out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, I bet it is.  _Personal_ … probably code for ‘vacation to Hawaii.’”

“Please, Mr. Davis, my family needs me—”

“Well, we need you here. We need everyone right now—you knew that when you signed up, and you’re going to pull your weight like everyone else.”

“But—”

“No excuses!”

Jane stood still, blinking back tears.

“Don’t you have an inventory to finish?” Mr. Davis asked sternly.

Still, Jane didn’t move.

“Are you close with your family, Mr. Davis?” she asked quietly.

Mr. Davis stared, then rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this—”

“Do you know what it’s like when your baby sister is hurting and you can’t be there for her?”

“Get back to work, Jane.”

“I’m  _going_  to go home, Mr. Davis. With or without your permission.” She looked him in the eye as she said this, using all of her willpower to keep from crying.

Mr. Davis let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But don’t expect to have a job here when you come back.”

Jane nodded, and without another word, she turned to walk down the hall toward her desk, which would need to be cleared out. She did not allow the tears to come until after she’d turned the corner, out of sight.


	18. Morning Coffee (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some interaction between Lizzie and her father, taking into account the fact that he now knows about the videos. Departs from what happens in the book, but then, LBD departs from the book in making Mr. Bennet aware of the videos (and, by extension, Lizzie’s changing opinion of Darcy).

“I’m intrigued by this Darcy fellow,” Dad said apropos of nothing as they were brewing their coffee on Monday morning (far earlier than Mom’s customary rising time). “I feel like I didn’t get to know him well enough while he was here, but perhaps he’ll be a guest again soon?”

The crinkling at the corners of his eyes suggested something that Lizzie wasn’t quite sure she was willing to face—not this early in the morning, not to her father, not so soon after… everything.

“Oh… I don’t know…” Lizzie said evasively.

“Of course, my opinion of him must always be colored by yours, but it is difficult for me to think ill of someone who’s so fond of you.”

Lizzie was blushing now. “I… I don’t think ill of him. Not anymore.”

“Hmmm…” was Dad’s response as he busied himself with pouring his coffee and adding cream.

“It’s not like that,” Lizzie protested, pouring her own cup and accepting the cream carton as Dad handed it to her with a raised eyebrow.

“I think I have a pretty good idea of  _what it’s like_ ,” he said. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gotten more accomplished in helping Lydia than we have at the moment.”

“What?” Lizzie said incredulously. “No, he’s busy, he has other things to do with his time.”

“It might not be a bad idea to give him a call—”

“Dad, you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” His eyes fixed on her, turning melancholy for the first time in the morning’s conversation. “For the sake of my daughter?”

Lizzie couldn’t think of anything to say to this. The idea that Darcy might be trying to help Lydia brought on a powerful and mangled combination of emotions that she couldn’t quite sort out in her head, and the idea that Dad might try to contact him (who knew what embarrassing things he might say?) didn’t help matters. But if there was a chance of taking down that horrible site and averting disaster, Darcy was of course in the best position to do so.

“I must be off to work,” Dad said with a small smile. “Let Jane and Lydia know that I have another meeting with my PI friend today. We’ll see if this one is more fruitful.”

Lizzie nodded absently as Dad kissed her on the forehead and took his leave.

She stood there lost in thought until her coffee went cold.


	19. No More Excuses (LBD)

There was a soft knock on her door.

“Jane?” Lizzie called tentatively. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Lizzie hesitated. Jane frowned, wondering if something had happened with Lydia… Oh, no, that was probably it—the tape had leaked. She jumped up and threw open the door.

“Is it Lydia? Is she okay?”

Lizzie gaped. “No, no! Nothing like that!” she said quickly. “It’s just…” She took a deep breath and cast a worried glance down toward the staircase, then up toward Jane. “Bing’s here.”

Jane wasn’t sure how to characterize the feeling that came over her, but it was very similar to how she’d felt a few nights ago when Lizzie had admitted to seeing Bing in San Francisco. The sting of hearing his name had faded to be replaced by an odd grayish buzzy feeling.

“Oh,” she said finally.

Lizzie put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t want to talk to him, that’s okay, I’ll make your excuses.”

Jane didn’t speak for several moments. Lizzie nodded understandingly, gave her shoulder another squeeze and left without a word.

Only Jane wasn’t sure Lizzie  _did_  understand. As she flopped back onto her bed and stared unseeingly at all of the new and unfamiliar sewing equipment stationed in her room, the fuzziness began to clear from her head, and she began to think through her own feelings. And she knew that it wasn’t so much a matter of not  _wanting_  to see him as it was a matter of being  _completely unprepared_.

_What do I say to him after all this time? How do I even feel? Does he want to get back together? Is that even a good idea?_

She couldn’t come up with good answers to any of this, and she never _would_  on her own. All this time, she’d wanted answers, she’d wanted an explanation, and she’d wanted it from  _him_ , and no one else. Now he was here and he wanted to talk to her… and  _what was she doing still hiding out in her room?_

She stood up from her bed and flew out of her room and down the stairs. She could hear quiet voices coming out of the den.

And there he was. She allowed the shock of seeing him to wash over her for a moment, then blinked it away and took a moment to really look at him, as objectively as she could manage. He looked so different from the happy, unconcerned Bing Lee she’d met last summer. Now, his shoulders were slumped, his face pinched and devoid of the bright smile she knew so well.

“I guess I’ll just be going,” he said, and something deep inside her cried out in protest. He couldn’t go—not until she knew what it was that weighted him down and made him look a shadow of his former self.

So she steeled herself and walked in.


	20. Pretty Dresses (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post by cirqueimaginaire](http://cirqueimaginaire.tumblr.com/post/43991817705/jane-going-to-nyc-is-a-good-thing), in which she mentions Ian talking about Jane making NYC a happier place just by being there (and we all know she totally would).

Life is pretty good for Jane. She’s just finished an exhausting but productive day at work, and soon she will come home to her tiny apartment where Bing will have dinner waiting.

But right now, she’s playing a game of peek-a-boo with the adorable little girl across the aisle from her on the subway. The girl is clutching her mother’s arm, and every once in a while, she’ll allow herself to look at Jane, and when she finds Jane looking back, she gets all bashful and buries her head in her mother’s arm again.

After several enjoyable minutes pass in this way, the girl climbs onto her knees in the seat so she can whisper something in her mother’s ear while stealing furtive glances back at Jane. The mother gives Jane a hard appraising look, but finally concedes, giving her daughter an indulgent nod.

The girl grins and climbs down from her seat. She crosses the aisle, wavering against the rattling and swaying of the subway car, and finally grasps the pole immediately to the left of Jane’s seat, and fixes her large brown eyes on Jane.

“I—I think your dress is really pretty,” she stammers.

Jane beams. “Thank you! I made it myself.”

“You did?!” the girl exclaims, all wonder and amazement. “You’re so talented!”

Jane shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Your dress is pretty, too.”

It is a very pretty dress—pale green with darker green swirls and curlicues patterned all over. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.” The girl smiles and turns back and forth a few times to make the skirt flare out. “I’m Krystal. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jane.”

The subway comes to a stop and the mother rises from her seat across the aisle, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

“This is my stop. I have to go.”

“Okay,” Jane nods. “It was very nice to meet you, Krystal.”

“You too, Jane!” Krystal says with a grin, receding to the other side of the aisle and grabbing her mother’s hand. As she exits onto the subway platform with her mother, Krystal steals several glances back at Jane, and Jane is there, smiling and waving, to receive every one of them.


	21. The Most Ideal Circumstances (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that many of my favorite bits of Pride and Prejudice are clustered around the end, because lately, it seems like a lot of them that are passing by either unmentioned in LBD, or given a brief nod and passed over. This is one of those that went unmentioned--a wonderful character moment for both Lizzie and Jane, but since they're not having a post-Jing-reunion, pre-New-York-departure video, it looks like we'll be missing out on it.
> 
> So I've written it here. Enjoy!

“Bing’s  _going to New York with you?_ ” LIzzie asked incredulously, standing at the doorway to Jane’s room. She had just watched through the footage from when she’d left the camera on in the den, which Bing and Jane had graciously allowed her to use for the vlog. They said it would work as Jane’s farewell, but were frustratingly unforthcoming with details about what had happened. “You’ll see,” was Jane’s cryptic answer to Lizzie’s initial inquiry. She’d had an idea before watching that they’d come to a new understanding, but  _this_ … she hadn’t expected this.

Jane blushed and grinned and nodded, and generally looked like a Jane Lizzie hadn’t seen in months… not since before Bing left. And that was great, it really was, but…

“Jane, are you sure about this? I mean, I want you to be happy and everything, but it’s just so soon.”

“I know,” Jane said, “but I  _am_  sure.” She laughed and raked a hand through her hair. “It’s kind of surprising how sure I am. I  _know_  it’s soon, and sudden… and maybe a little rash, and that’s why I said no at first, but I know I’d regret it if I didn’t give him a chance… if I didn’t give  _us_  a chance.”

That hit closer to home than Lizzie was quite willing to admit (at least out loud). She walked into the room, skirted around the new sewing table, sat down beside Jane on her bed, and gathered both of her sister’s hands in her own.

“You know, my offer still stands: if he breaks your heart again, I  _will_  kick his ass.”

Jane laughed and looked down at their joined hands. “He won’t,” she said. “He’s different now. He’s making his own decisions. It took a lot of courage for him to drop out of med school against his family’s wishes.”

“I’ve been  _wondering_  about that!” Lizzie exclaimed with the fervor of a detective who has found her theory proven right. “He was making way too many impromptu visits for someone who was supposed to be in class! But I’m glad he’s doing what he wants to do.”

Jane smiled, or rather, the smile that had been constantly playing at her lips now broadened and intensified. “I’m so happy for him,” she said. “I’m just so happy in general. It’s crazy how happy I am.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Lizzie said, pulling Jane in for a hug. “You guys are ridiculously perfect for each other, and I think you’ll make it work.”

Jane nodded, and, as she looked Lizzie in the eye, a cloud passed over her sunny expression for the first time. “I just wish you could be as happy as I am.”

Lizzie looked down. “I’m sure that even if the perfect job and the perfect man descended out of the sky for me, I could never be as happy as you are. I don’t see the best in the world the way you do, and I could probably figure out a way to find fault with the most ideal circumstances life could throw at me.”

She couldn’t help but think about how she’d managed to find so many faults in Darcy all this time, little knowing… well, not that any of that mattered anymore.

“Have you heard from Darcy at all since—?”

“No,” Lizzie said, cursing her voice for breaking in the middle of the word, and cursing Jane’s psychic ability to read her thoughts. She shook her head and forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Jane looked unconvinced, but Lizzie refused to turn this into a pity party.

“Can I help you pack?”

Jane shrugged. “I’ve pretty much got everything ready to go, except what I need for taking a shower tomorrow and brushing my teeth, you know, stuff like that…”

“Then let’s make cookies,” Lizzie suggested. “I need to stock up on your Snickerdoodles while I still have you here.”

Jane grinned. “I’m so glad Snickerdoodles are a happy thing for me again.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”


	22. Doorstep (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic came out of [my assumption](http://aeternamente.tumblr.com/post/45678932327/darcys-entrance) that the front door of the Bennet house is very close to the door to the den, and therefore it seems unlikely that Lizzie wouldn't hear Darcy when Charlotte answered the door, and that it would take Darcy that long to get to the den to talk to Lizzie. So I felt the need for there to be some... mitigating circumstances. But then I got [something](http://aeternamente.tumblr.com/post/45681882194/i-always-thought-that-if-lizzie-were-in-the-den-with) [in my](http://aeternamente.tumblr.com/post/45681874230/continued-working-under-this-assumption-the-knock) [ask box](http://aeternamente.tumblr.com/post/45681865733/continued-g-darcy-in-the-hallway-when-he-gets-nearer) that provided another plausible explanation. But at that point, I'd already written this fic, so there you go.

Charlotte wasn’t quite sure why she decided to close the door to the den when she went to answer the door. But when the person on the other side of the door turned out to be less Asian, less laden with take-out, and much more Darcy than what she was expecting, she was thankful for whatever impulse it was that had led her to close it (her mother’s voice demanding to know if they lived in a barn came to mind, and she thanked her mother ten times over in her head).

The fact was that she wanted to have a few words with William Darcy before he got around to talking to Lizzie. So before he even had a chance to open his mouth, she pressed a hand to his chest, pushed him a few steps backward, and closed the front door behind them.

Darcy gave her a quizzical look, but didn’t seem to object to being manhandled (womanhandled?). Charlotte supposed that, with a sister like Gigi, he’d gotten used to it.

“As Lizzie’s best friend, it is my obligation to inform you that if you ever do anything to hurt her, I  _will_  castrate you.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “I, uh…”

“But I don’t anticipate having to do that. I edited most of Lizzie’s Pemberley videos, so I have seen proof of how much you care about her  _close up_  and  _repeatedly_. I’ve also been a lifelong scholar of the many moods of Lizzie Bennet, and I know that she cares about you more than she’s been letting on lately.”

Darcy blinked several times. “So you’re saying…”

“So I’m saying… go for it,” Charlotte concluded, stepping aside to allow Darcy a clear path to the front door. “Just don’t be a dick about it, like last time. She’s in the den, first door on the right.”

Darcy nodded, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.

“Oh, and Darcy?”

He turned.

“It’s her birthday today. Our birthday.” Charlotte smiled. “Maybe you could take her out for dinner.”

“Oh, I… um, thank you, that’s a good idea.” He returned her smile as best he could, but Charlotte understood that the poor guy had enough on his mind right now.

“Proceed,” she said with a wave of her hand. Darcy obeyed, entering through the front door.

Grinning, Charlotte looked out toward the front walkway, where she saw the delivery guy standing a good distance back, looking awkward. She went out to him and paid for her order.

She navigated through the process of opening the door with her arms full of food. As she passed the den, she was satisfied to hear soft voices emanating from the door. She climbed the stairs and knocked on Lydia’s bedroom door. After a moment, Lydia answered, looking confused at the sight of her sister’s best friend showing up with her arms full of take-out boxes.

“So…” Charlotte said, raising an eyebrow. “Guess who showed up at our doorstep just now and is currently talking-slash-confessing-his-still-undying-love to Lizzie in the den.”

Lydia suppressed a squeal. “No. Way.”

“Yep. What do you say to eating lots of honey walnut shrimp and listening at the door?”


	23. The Improper Peeling of Fruit (LBD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted as a comment to imaginarycircus's [Here Be Dragons](../../732154) (which is a sexy-times fic--you've been warned). And I'm just fleshing out a little scene that was mentioned there, but this fic, unlike the inspiration fic, is pretty G-rated.
> 
> Oh, and while you don't _have_ to read imaginarycircus's fic to understand this one, I think you should (if you're cool with reading smut) because it's lovely.

 

Lizzie had to stifle an exasperated groan as she entered the kitchen and saw a tall, dark-haired form stationed by the coffee maker. William Darcy was pouring freshly-ground coffee from the grinder into the coffee filter, and Lizzie's plan of making herself a sandwich suddenly seemed like an unbearably long, complicated process that would inevitably draw his criticism. She probably used too much mayonnaise or arranged the meat improperly, or didn't cut it the right way.

 

Perhaps she could just steal an orange off the table and sneak away before he saw her.

 

Too late. He had just finished filling the carafe with water, and his short journey back to the coffee maker brought her within his sight. Lizzie froze. So did Darcy. Her presence always seemed to make him tense up. He was wearing those stupid hipster glasses, but she could still see his eyebrows contracting behind them.

 

He cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Lizzie," he said formally with a slight bow of the head.

 

"Hey, Darcy," she said with a deliberately casual and disinterested air.

 

"Would--would you like any coffee?" he offered, probably to feel self-satisfied for being capable of courtesy.

 

_Well, good job, Darcy. I would give you a rat's ass if I had one._

 

"No, I just..." She grabbed the orange she hadn't come down for from the bowl of fruit on the table. She crossed to the sink and began peeling. She would have just taken it up to her room, but Darcy would probably judge her for tossing the rind in the trash rather than depositing it properly in the sink disposal.

 

Darcy remained near the coffee maker as it purred smoothly through the brewing process, and the coffee maker was annoyingly close to the sink. He remained silent, but his eyes were fixed on her hands as they peeled, his eyebrows still contracted, his mouth drawn tight.

 

Lizzie seethed.  _How can he possibly find fault with the way I peel oranges? Have I managed to demonstrate incorrect technique even here?_  She ground her teeth, and in her annoyance, she seemed to have dug her fingernails a little too deeply and punctured the inner skin of the orange, spraying her hand with juice. Darcy's expression tightened even further as he watched her suck the juice off her fingers.

 

 _I bet his sister peels oranges perfectly and doesn't make a big, juicy mess of it,_  Lizzie thought morosely. She had this picture in her head of what his sister must be like. Tall, like him. Coldly beautiful and standoffish. She probably had perfect, long taper fingers that were incapable of making human mistakes like the improper peeling of fruit. She violently poked her pieces of orange rind (some with jagged chunks of fruit still attached) down into the drain and flicked on the switch for the disposal. When she flicked it off again, she noticed that the kitchen was now silent--the coffee maker had ceased its purring.

 

"I think your coffee is done," she reminded him.

 

Darcy jumped and nodded and grabbed the cup he had set on the counter. He poured his coffee, but did not leave. He just took intermittent sips from his cup and continued staring at her. Unfortunately for Lizzie, the messy state of her peeled orange made it inadvisable for her to take it up to her room, dripping over her hands and lush, expensive carpets the whole way.

 

So she sighed and separated her orange into halves over the sink, eating it slice by slice under the critical eye of William Darcy.


	24. Ring Finger (AoJE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engagement ring anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-purposing this collection of fics to be multi-fandom! This is the first one to belong to AoJE, and from here on out, I'll be labeling titles with the fandom to which they belong (before this one, LBD is assumed).

This would be her fourth cup of tea of the day. It was getting to be a cycle. Sometimes, she was happy—ecstatic, even—but then the doubts would creep in and that giddy feeling in her stomach would turn sour, and she would crave a warm mug in her hands, steam bathing her face, and the soothing, complex combination of flavors on her tongue that was so familiar, so comforting. So she’d go to the kitchen and make tea. Then she’d sit and drink and breathe and calm herself, and talk herself back into this crazy, impossible idea.

This time, she was interrupting her own video session for a tea run.

_If it takes this much tea to keep me convinced, is this really something I should be doing?_

She pushed the thought out of her mind and continued her trek toward the kitchen, but she paused as she neared the door and heard a voice.

"Now you, don’t escape from me. That’s right, stay in the pan like a good asparagus."

She normally would have smiled. She was familiar with Ricardo’s penchant for holding conversations with the food he was cooking, and found it endearing, but hearing his voice now set her head buzzing and her stomach churning. Her ring suddenly felt heavy and conspicuous. She was certain that, if she went through that door, he would immediately notice and comment on this expensive piece of jewelry and its placement on a  _very important finger_.

She was a terrible liar. If Ricardo did notice and comment, she would never be able to pass it off as nothing. She would stammer and blush and be generally self-conscious. She’d be noticeably embarrassed even if he didn’t comment, and she just didn’t want to deal with what the conversation would be like if he got suspicious.

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. He wouldn’t notice. She took a deep breath and prepared to enter…

…but her feet wouldn’t move.

"Stop being stupid," she whispered to herself, "and just go in there and make your tea. It’s not a big deal if you don’t make it one."

Still nothing.

She sighed and gave in, juggling her tea cup while she quickly switched the ring to a less meaningful finger.

It felt like a cop-out, she thought as she opened the door and entered the kitchen, but at least she could avoid a panic attack.


	25. Gift to Future Jane (AoJE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's February and Jane is shopping (takes place prior to the beginning of AoJE).

Jane grimaced as she pushed her cart past the shelf stocked with Valentines. It wasn’t even that she cared about Valentine’s Day. She knew plenty of single people who got upset about it, but it never bothered Jane very much. No, seeing Valentines in the store always reminded her that it was February, the month that, three times out of four, was conspicuously devoid of her birthday.

She’d had a birthday last year. A real one. And it was a good one, too, spent with her friend Melanie. They baked cookies and watched  _The Princess Bride_ (quoting along with it the whole way, of course). Melanie had graduated last year, gotten a job, and moved away. And now, here was Jane facing yet another birthday-less year.

Of course, she should know by now to stop letting her inner voice mimic the voices that had surrounded her in childhood, calling her desire to mark the passing of a year a lie, mocking her when a real birthday actually did come around.  _You’re only two years old! You’re still a baby!_  John and Johanna had given her a pacifier that year.

 _But they don’t get to decide these things anymore,_  she reminded herself.  _T_ _hey don’t get to tell my story. My birthday is real if I say it is._

She never even noticed that she’d wheeled her way into the electronics department, but she would always remember that just as she made that internal pronouncement, her eyes focused on a shelf stocked with video cameras on sale, and somehow it felt like destiny. She picked up the cheapest one, mentally calculated how much money she could spare (finding to her satisfaction that she could pretty easily afford it), and resolutely set it in her cart.

 _It’s a birthday gift to Future Jane,_  she decided.  _Now I can tell my own story._


	26. A Case Study on the Social Dynamics of Internet Culture (AoJE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana and Mary try to decide what to do for Jane’s birthday.

"Jane forgot her phone  _again_ , can you believe it?”

Mary picked up the offending device from the coffee table.

Diana, sprawled across a nearby chair surrounded by a clutter of articles printed off JSTOR, shrugged and scribbled a note in the margins of her current article. “I’m not surprised.”

"One of these days we’ll need to call her when she’s at work, and then what are we gonna do?"

"Call Rose, I guess?"

Mary cocked her head, then nodded. “Point taken.” She plopped down onto the couch with an almost practiced lack of grace. “Oh hey, have you come up with any ideas for Jane’s birthday?”

Diana flipped a page and pursed her lips in thought. “Well I mean food’s always a good idea. We can make food or take her out somewhere, or both.”

Mary nodded. “And cake’s a necessity.”

"Obviously."

"But we need to do something special, something she’ll remember, that can make up for her family being all sucky to her growing up."

"I can’t believe anyone would do that to a child. You know it’s really amazing how Jane’s overcome all that—hey what are you doing?" Diana directed a sharp, big-sisterly glare at Mary, who had picked up Jane’s phone again and started swiping and poking at the screen with an inquisitive smirk.

"She posts her videos on the internet, right? And she has fans, like on YouTube and… YES! TWITTER."

“ _Mary._  We agreed we weren’t going to go  _digging into her past!_ ”

"I’m not digging!" Mary protested, though with a bit of a guilty start (and a pang of pity), as she’d just seen that Jane’s last tweet, from back in early January, had read  _'Home, sweet home,'_  and two earlier tweets seemed to chronicle a… vacation to Banff? What kind of life had Jane left? And why? Mary couldn’t help wondering…

But she stifled her curiosity and refrained from tapping the ‘View all Tweets’ link. “I just think it would be really cool if we could surprise Jane by getting her fans involved in her birthday somehow. You know, it could be like… like  _a case study on the social dynamics of internet culture_.” _  
_

Diana threw a pillow. “Don’t you try to sound all academic,” she teased…

…but she had to admit, her curiosity was piqued.


	27. Dream Roles (KitR)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this not realizing that _Spelling Lessons_ (Lily's "teen witches" movie) and the CW pilot were two different things, so they're kind of mashed up together in this fic. I considered trying to rework it so that it fit canon better, but realized that would pretty much mean rewriting the whole thing, but I still like this even if it doesn't work with canon at all.

"Ugh, I’m so over how big a deal they’re making about this stupid love triangle," Lily complained, flipping through the script. "They’re completely missing the point—Sally’s choosing between two different  _lives_  not two different  _boys_.”

Seven shrugged. “Were you really expecting a made-for-TV adaptation to pick up on subtleties like that?”

"Not the point," Lily countered. "I grew up with these books. I’ve dreamed of playing Sally since I was ten. It’s like they’re butchering my baby."

"It’s a  _job_ , Lily,” Seven said. “You say the lines and you get paid. Stop taking it so seriously.”

Lily didn’t answer. It would be too easy for this to turn into an argument, and Sev was really the only friend she had on set.  _It’s not his fault he isn’t a SpellBinder,_  she reminded herself.  _And you do work well with him on camera._

Seven wasn’t someone who wore his talent on his sleeve. He generally kept to himself and didn’t say much to people he didn’t know, and his snide, sarcastic demeanor could be off-putting to some people, but Lily knew from their years together in acting school that once he had a script in his head, he could inhabit a character so thoroughly, it made you wonder if there wasn’t any Shapeshifter Solution involved. His performances always brought out the best in hers, which was why they were always cast together back in their school days, and presumably why he was cast as Leander—Sally’s childhood friend who turned out to have magical powers like her—in this production.

Lily fell back into reading through the script. Really, most of it was lifted directly out of the dialogue from the book, but somehow, underneath all of that, it just didn’t  _get_  important themes and character motivations. Lily was in the middle of a mental diatribe (complete with memorized book citations) against the wording of a specific line in the script when an unfamiliar voice interrupted the flow of her thoughts.

"Hey Seven—eaten any nines lately?"

The words didn’t make sense to Lily, but the voice had an edge of teasing, juvenile cruelty to it, and as Lily looked up at Sev, she saw his shoulders slump, his brows crease, his entire countenance revert to the sullen, insecure boy she’d met in their freshman year.

Before she even saw the owner of that voice, Lily knew she hated him.

She turned her head slowly toward him and took him in. Tall. Gangly. Messy dark hair. ( _He probably spent at least an hour at the mirror perfecting that infuriatingly tousled look_ , Lily thought viciously.) He had a smug expression on his face, as if he’d just delivered a class-act burn. A nearby camera operator sniggered to himself while polishing his camera lens, and that set Lily off.

"What are you, twelve?" she spat at Tousle-Haired Dude. "Leave him alone!"

Tousle-Haired Dude rolled his eyes and walked away.

Beside her, Seven let out a breath and straightened up a bit, but didn’t make eye contact with Lily.

"What was that all about?" Lily asked.

Sev waved his hand in what was probably meant to be a casual, unconcerned way, but it came out looking rather helpless. “Just someone I knew in high school,” he said. “We weren’t friends.”

* * *

Lily’s first encounter with James had only lasted a few seconds, but it had made an impression. She wasn’t even really friends with Sev anymore. They’d had one too many arguments in which he had dismissed her concerns about the sexism inherent in the film industry, and she’d decided it was best not to rise to his bait anymore. She hadn’t answered his texts or phone calls in months.

Even so, when Lily first saw James walk through the door during casting for that one ’60s film, she felt an instant and overpowering dislike toward him, even if she couldn’t immediately remember why.

Now they’d been cast together as romantic leads yet again, and Lily had to restrain herself from throwing something, because this was  _Anne of Green Gables_. For the second time in her life, she’d been cast in her dream role, and for the second time in her life, her dream role was ruined.


	28. Not a Nice Person (KitR)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sean’s face starting at [1:50](http://youtu.be/Va1_vjUBkBo?t=1m50s) in the Anne/Gilbert episode video. Seriously, his FACE, you guys.

"Please don’t talk to me."

Her words stung. It was kind of embarrassing to admit how much they stung. Lily Everett didn’t like him, and it wasn’t like this was news. She made this clear through words, emails, body language… really, any channel of communication left open to her (in which she wasn’t acting for a camera or for the general public) was a tool she used to communicate her deep and abiding dislike of James Porter.

She had this way of making him feel like the scum of the earth, and he was only just now starting to wonder if that was justified. He knew he wasn’t perfect. He knew that when he didn’t have words on a page to memorize and a character to embody, he was almost comically inept at basic communication skills and tended to stick his foot in his mouth with alarming frequency, but he was never intentionally  _mean_  to her, and wasn’t it just a matter of actor-ly decency to be nice enough that the general experience of working together could be, if not enjoyable, at least not excruciating? He wasn’t asking for much, just enough courtesy to get through the day (even feigned courtesy—he wasn’t picky at this point), but even that seemed to be too much for her.

"You are…" he said, only realizing after the words came out that he had even said anything. Damn. Foot in mouth yet again. But he had to finish the thought somehow, so he went with "…not a nice person."

That came out sounding like a lame excuse for an insult, but really it was just James’s attempt to put his complicated thoughts into words. As usual, he’d failed. “Not a nice person” didn’t capture the enormous amount of respect he had for her acting abilities—the Anne-like glow to her eyes that she could conjure up at a moment’s notice. “Not a nice person” didn’t capture the strange ache he felt when he saw her talking and laughing with directors, camera crew, makeup artists, rain rig engineers— _anyone_  who wasn’t James. But even more than that, “not a nice person” ran completely counter to the indisputable fact that Lily was a beautiful person in James’s eyes, beautiful in every possible way, and that was why her words and general attitude toward him continued to sting so much, even though at this point, he’d learned not to expect anything else.

But this line of thought would get him nowhere. He couldn’t stay hung up on her like he was. In an attempt to distract himself with literally anything that was on hand, he reached behind Lily and picked up a prop book (continuity people would be at his throat for this later, he was sure), flipping to a random page.

"Could I get a water please?" Lily asked in her best supremely unconcerned voice, "…and a mmmint?"

As usual, Lily’s pointed words were uttered for the express purpose of insulting James, and as usual, James felt it. Keenly. But in a decidedly unusual turn of events, a fantastic comeback came fully formed to his mind, and even more unusual—James felt just spiteful enough to deliver it:

"Yeah, could you get her a mint?"


	29. Sickness and Homesickness (KitR)

Lily fell back onto her pillow after yet another bout of hacking, choking, throat-rending coughs. She wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead and emitted a scratchy, phlegmy groan, wordlessly cursing fake rain, sodden gloves and overcoats that only ever made things worse, and stupid costars who kissed her repeatedly over the course of several takes and yet remained stupidly free of stupid icky bronchitis. Curse them all to the fiery pits of hell.

Every communication she had received from various members of the production crew was insistent that she rest up and not worry about coming in until she was better, but Lily knew the business and knew how much this would set back a production that was already behind schedule. The resentment was completely unspoken, but it was there and Lily felt it.

But perhaps the worst of it all was the fact that she was in an unfamiliar place. The apartment she’d rented for the duration of the shoot was nice, but the walls were bare, she couldn’t find her way to the bathroom in the dark without running into things, and it was depressingly devoid of Ollie, purring and padding gingerly about on his arthritic paws, or sprawling for a nap across her shins—she missed the warm weight of him there.

She hadn’t eaten much of anything all day. Her refrigerator was frightfully understocked as she’d been relying more and more heavily on eating out over the past few weeks as the shooting schedule left her feeling more and more drained at the end of the day. She knew she should probably order some kind of food just to sustain her, but there weren’t many places in the area that had gluten-free options  _and_  delivery, and none of the ones she could think of sounded remotely appealing. Well  _nothing_  sounded appealing really, but she knew that when she was sick, it was never a good idea to trust her lack of appetite, that eating usually did make her feel better.

If she were  _home_  she could call Pam or Andrea to come and take care of her, but she  _wasn’t_  home. She was in this stupid, unfamiliar apartment in a stupid, unfamiliar state, and she felt another stupid coughing attack coming on. In the hacking, body-convulsing racket that ensued, Lily failed to hear a knock at the door, but as she collapsed back against her pillow, it came again, soft and tentative.

She heaved herself out of bed and shuffled toward the door. There was James, eyeing her sheepishly and carrying a quart-sized carton of… something. Lily was suddenly aware of the bedraggled state of her hair, the accumulation of crusty gunk around her eyes, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She quickly folded her arms across her chest, realizing a little too late (by the deflated sense of resignation she saw in his eyes) that he had taken this as a defensive posture.

There was a prolonged silence. A soft breeze blew, ruffling his messy hair. He was wearing glasses. She didn’t know he actually wore glasses. They weren’t anything like the face-obscuring plastic monstrosities they’d had him wear back in their first project together—they were small and subtle and wire-rimmed. They looked nice on him.

"I got you some soup," he said at last. "It has tomatoes, because I know you like them, and you don’t have to kiss me anymore so…"

Lily tried to say something, but her brain wasn’t working, and all her throat would allow at the moment was a harsh, gurgly grunt.

"I’ll uh… I’ll just leave it with you and stop talking, then."

He pushed the carton into her hands and turned away. She needed to say something. What did she need to say? Basic conversational procedure was eluding her what with her sickness-addled brain and the memory of those glasses that somehow tugged at a complicated knot in her stomach that she hadn’t even been aware of before, and that she definitely did  _not_ want to analyze right now.

But he had already strode back to his car and started the engine before she could think of what to say:

"Thank you," she whispered to his tail lights as they receded into the dusk.


	30. Colorful Legwear (AoJE)

"That’s a lot of tights."

"Oh this is just the first box!"

Suzanna gave her girlfriend her patented  _you have got to be kidding me_ glare. “Okay, Living Together Rule number eleven: I will not wash any of these. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime with Rochester’s socks. Though why I can’t seem to escape people with strange obsessions with colorful footwear is something I will never understand.”

"Agreed, you don’t have to wash them." Mary sealed the agreement with a kiss, as was their ritual with Living Together Rules. "But they’re not footwear, they’re legwear—"

"They’re  _both_.”

"—and I thought you liked me in tights."

Suzanna cocked her head to the side. “Mmmmm… it’s more that when I see you in tights, I want to get you out of them as quickly as possible.”

"Hey! That’s my little sister you’re talking about!" Diana and Jane had just come up with another load of boxes.

Suzanna shrugged. “Your little sister is hot.”

"Heck yeah I am!" Mary crowed. "Also, you’re helping us move in together. What did you think was going to happen?"

"I try not to think about it," Diana said, setting her boxes down on the ground.

Suzanna moved toward the newly-arrived boxes. “So what’s in this one?” she asked, gesturing toward the one on top.

Mary grinned. “Wait for it…”

Suzanna sighed and as she sliced through the tape with her exact-o knife and pulled up the flaps to reveal…

"MORE TIGHTS!"

“ _Ay, Dios mío…_ ”


	31. Unintended Consequences (AoJE)

She wasn’t supposed to stand up.

There was a reason why I hugged both my sisters from behind while they were still sitting. It’s because then they’re not an active participant in the hug. They’re not moving in, and I don’t have to judge what direction their head is moving so I can accordingly move my head in the opposite direction.

How does that work anyway? How do people instinctively know where to move their head? It seems like every time I feel like I have a sense of how it usually goes, say I decide it’s generally to the right, then the next person I hug will inevitably go to the left, and unintended consequences ensue.

Why am I always the recipient of unintended consequences?

Even if said consequences with this person might be… well, I mean I’m still trying to figure out… but given what I’m planning to suggest to her in regards to her career, well it wouldn’t be catastrophic if—

Well in any case, she wasn’t supposed to stand up. It would have been much easier if she hadn’t.


	32. If I Didn't Care (KitR)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is a result of a perfect storm of inspirations. There’s [these](http://lilyandjameskitr.tumblr.com/post/82227522512/lulabo-i-dont-dislike-you-is-not-nothing) [headcanons](http://lilyandjameskitr.tumblr.com/post/82227605287/shipwreckedcomedy-unrequited-love-is) about Lily having a late night date with Ben and Jerry’s and mojitos and 90s music, and then there’s Yulin’s [post](http://yulinkuang.tumblr.com/post/82225542964/this-weeks-kitr-thoughts) about how this episode was inspired by  _Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day_ , which is such a lovely movie. Also, [this post](http://aeternamente.tumblr.com/post/81017332584/lee-wasnt-working-that-day-so-he-was-just) recently came up on my queue.
> 
> And then there’s the fact that  _Miss Pettigrew_  has a song in it called, “If I Didn’t Care.” **** __  
> And I just knew that this was a fic that needed to happen.
> 
> Contains spoilers for  _Miss Pettigrew_.

After the fourth mojito, and after successfully remembering the entire dance routine for “It’s Gonna Be Me” (it was a phase, okay?), Lily had given in to the fact that she would be arriving on set tomorrow tired and hungover, and figured she might as well make the most of it. She pulled out  _Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day_ , because playing a swanky redhead from the 30s had made her think of it (it’s character research, right?), and because while she didn’t like being called “the next Amy Adams,” she did like Amy Adams, and because who can say no to a piano-playing Lee Pace with a British accent?

But Lee Pace turned out to be exactly the problem, all tall and dark haired and unshaven and intense. Lily knew exactly what it was like to be fixed with that kind of stare, and when Delysia got this look on her face like her heart had just jumped into her throat? She wasn’t going to say it was Amy going out of character, more that a stare like that brought out a specific side of Delysia that maybe Amy hadn’t practiced or foreseen.

Maybe Lily knew a little too much about that kind of stare.

By the time it got to the part where Delysia and Michael sing “If I Didn’t Care,” Lily was trying not to weep into her ice cream. She was drunk enough to actually start believing  _this song is for me_. She sang along, allowing herself to get swept up in the smooth piano and Delysia’s tremulous voice and the slowly revolving camera motion…

_If I didn’t care,_  
 _More than words can say,_  
 _If I didn’t care,_  
 _Would I feel this way?_  
 _If this isn’t love,_  
 _Then why do I thrill?_  
 _And what makes my head go round and round_  
 _While my heart stands still?_

And there was Lee Pace with his intense stare again, and somehow, it suddenly hit her: he was acting. Maybe it was recent experience that had taught her not to trust that intense stare, but somehow, she knew. This sweeping love story? It wasn’t real. You know what was real?

He didn’t care.

Lily finally gave in and wept into her ice cream as Delysia’s voice cracked on the high note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up the song on YouTube, and came up [with this fantastic fan video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4bNS5e6fEM). OMG I melted.


	33. A Familiar Presence (KitR)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been informed that the idea of Lily not driving in LA is laughable. So it turns out I know nothing about LA, but I still like this pretty well.

Lily is trying to convince herself she hates the rain.

Everyone she talks to and works with has a rainy-weather rant on auto-pilot (she’s heard her agent’s several times), and Lily listens to them and nods along. Yes, LA drivers are idiots and don’t know how to handle stormy conditions. Yes, it sucks when your feet are wet and you didn’t bring any extra socks. Yes, you moved out here for the sun, and what’s the point if it’s just going to be all wet and gray anyway?

She wants to hate it, because it would be easier if she did, but she never drives, always remembers extra socks, and when she’s out on the street listening to the rain pattering on her umbrella and breathing in the fresh, slightly metallic scent, it instills her with a sense of calm and brings a soft smile to her lips.

It also makes her imagine a familiar presence beside her, soaking wet because they never do give him an umbrella. She really should push him out of her mind, but she likes his presence there, and the haze of the rain is casting enough of a spell that he almost seems real…

…for now.


	34. My Sunshine (KitR)

She did write it, sort of. The proper way of saying it would probably be that she  _arranged_  it. She didn’t have a lead sheet or anything, it was just that one day, while driving home in the rain from a chemistry read (with a guy who was nice and conventionally funny and very decidedly  _not James_ ), the song slipped into her head, then took hold and refused to go away until she gave in and excavated her closet to find her old ukelele, then fiddled around with chords until she found the right progression.

And then it wasn’t enough to sing the song  _about_  James, she felt compelled to sing it  _to_  him, even though the lyrics talked about how much she  _loved_  him, and that made the idea of singing it to him more than a little bit uncomfortable, in large part because she suspected it was true.

But  _sunshine_ , though. It was ironic in a way that perfectly captured their dynamic and the sense of humor that she’d slowly discovered that they had in common. She knew that he would appreciate the joke, and couldn’t entirely banish the hope that he would appreciate the sentiment as well, that thinking of him made something bright and sparkling and hopelessly optimistic well up inside of her.

As idiotically cheesy as it sounded, he was her  _sunshine_ , and she would never be at peace with herself until she communicated this to him in the most idiotically cheesy and romantic way possible.


	35. You'll Never Know, Dear (KitR)

The eyeroll was planned.

Not only did she plan it, she  _practiced_  it as she struggled to remember chord fingerings and suffered through the stinging pain in her left-hand fingertips that came from being enough out of practice to lose all her calluses.

Because here was the thing. Once  _You Are My Sunshine_  presented itself to Lily’s brain, it left no room for any other songs, and she knew that if she was going to go through with this ridiculous display of feelings, she was stuck with that line: “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.” She tried to convince herself it was okay because everyone knows that song lyrics don’t count the same way real words do.

But people don’t always know. She had a boyfriend in high school with whom she always sang “I’ll make love to you like you want me to,” and to her it was just their thing, singing that song. They both had good voices for it and they liked singing it, but then he took it as a promise and tried to collect on it, resulting in a blow-up argument and a messy breakup.

So maybe she shouldn’t count on that. Hence, the eyeroll.

Because obviously it would be ridiculous to show up at a guy’s doorstep unsure of whether he even  _liked_  you with a completely honest declaration of  _love_. Who does that? Okay, countless film characters do that all the time, but real people?  _Lily?_  Ha, no. So the eyeroll was a buffer. It was plausible deniability. It was I’m putting myself out there enough with this grand gesture with a not-so-original song, I don’t need to go throwing I love you into the mix.

Except that was the first thing he picked up on. After the last strummed chord died away and Lily allowed her burning fingertips to relax from the rasp of the strings, James stood there quietly for several moments, absorbing the impact of the gesture in a way that was beautifully and infuriatingly  _James_ , then frowned and asked, “You  _love_  me?”

It sounded incredulous in a way that Lily didn’t quite trust, and she couldn’t possibly tell him that the moment the word “love” came out of his mouth, she knew it was true, that it was a word that perfectly described the way all her insides seemed to fall apart as she stared up into his dark, searching eyes.

But he’d never know that. Okay, maybe not  _never_ , but certainly not yet. She settled for the technically true but equivocal “I don’t hate you,” and hoped he’d get something out of the subtext.


	36. A Very Short Conversation (AoJE)

"Long story short, Edward, if we don’t take it to court, we lose the company."

Edward sighed and dropped his head in his hands, and in that, Grace saw the man who had been taking his whole life and dragging it to a better place by brute force, the man who had found a grim but brightening new purpose in his life—she saw that man crumbling back to nothing.

"We can’t take it to court. I won’t drag  _her_  into this.”

(He never said her name anymore.)

Grace knew that this was the final word. And she agreed with it. So there was nothing to say but, ”I guess that’s it, then.”


	37. Alternate Ending (KitR)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utter crackfic inspired by [this post](http://dezzlesstuff.tumblr.com/post/84804030282/kissing-in-the-rain).

James opened the door.

Lily was there.

"Hi," she said shortly.

"Hi," he said back.

She rolled her eyes. “Those of us at home might be wondering what it is I’m doing here on your front porch… in the rain…”

"Those of us at home might have thought you  _hated_  those of us at home.”

"Those of us at home would be dAMN RIGHT."

She struck a minor chord on her ukulele.

“ _You are the worst person in the whole world—_  
 _You make me angry, disturbed, and frayed—_  
 _You’ll always know, dear, how much I hate you,_  
 _Because I’ll take your sunshine awa-a-a-a-y,_  
 _Because I’ll take your sunshine away.”_

"Lily, what—HEY! OW! STOP IT!"

The ukulele let out strangled  _twangs_  and crashes of breaking wood and string as Lily repeatedly bashed it against his shoulders, chest, head…

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH JAMES PORTER I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"


	38. Life of an Extra (KitR)

"I think the most difficult thing about shooting this is that I can never look directly at that John Proctor guy," Dara mused between takes.

“ _Exactly!_ " Megan agreed as Alicia made a show of fanning herself. "How are we supposed to focus on this boring old witch trial with him there being all brooding and bare-chested?"

"I don’t know whether to bless or curse the costume designer who came up with  _that_  idea,” Laci complained.

"Pretty much…"

They were in the middle of a scene where John Proctor was taking Lenore back into his memories, so according to the characters they were all playing, John and Lenore didn’t exist. Or rather John did, but that was a different, non-ghosty, regretfully more fully clothed John whose shots for this scene had been filmed earlier that morning.

"So who’s the girl playing Lenore?" Megan asked, propping her feet up on the wooden bench in front of her.

"Didn’t you know? That’s James Porter’s little sister."

"Really." Megan eyed the girl distrustfully. "I wonder how she got the part."

"Actually I hear it’s from some webseries."

"It seems a lot of people get randomly famous from webseries these days," Laci mused. "If I could actually afford to not get paid for a job, I might give it a try."

"Yeah, well it probably doesn’t hurt that she gets to live with her brother rent-free."

"She is pretty though," Dara observed. "James is kinda dorky looking. I wonder where those genes came from."

"James is cute," Alicia countered.

"Yeah, but dorky-cute."

"Fair point," Alicia said. "I think I can see the resemblance, though. It’s in the eyes…"

"All right people," the director called. "Places. Let’s go again."

They exchanged long-suffering  _life of an extra, amirite?_  glances as the stood for another take.


	39. Two Iced Teas (KitR)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of [this fic](http://imaginarycircus.tumblr.com/post/84863362574/theyre-doing-laundry-lily-is-folding-a-t-shirt) by [imaginarycircus](http://tmblr.co/m72eNtV6OIZof7q3LUYLebg). Also kind of an extension of [this fic](http://lulabo.tumblr.com/post/84874474486/audrey-and-lenore) by [lulabo](http://tmblr.co/mgpD_1Aombc-9heP1NFKDOw).

While waiting in line for her iced tea, it occurs to Audrey that in this situation, Lenore wouldn’t be embarrassed at all. Of course, Audrey is pretty sure that Lenore doesn’t know what embarrassment  _is_. She just feels what she feels and says what she says and lets people think what they think.

Audrey amuses herself by imagining Lenore monologuing about Henry.

"That Henry dude? He’s a hottie, amirite? Straight-up  _mancandy_. Yeah, I came up with that one, do you like it? I think he should just change his last name to that, because it’s what  _everyone_  is thinking. Don’t even lie about it. Anyway, all of this discussion of hot dudes has made me want to drink something cold, if you know what I mean  _(wink)_. I’m outties for some iced tea. You want some, Lils?”

"Excuse me—miss?" the guy behind the counter says. "Do you know what you want?"

Audrey starts and blushes and feels another wave of embarrassment rise up inside her.

"Yeah—yeah, sorry. Two iced teas. No sugar."

She is  _so_  not Lenore. 


	40. Possessed (KitR)

Audrey had no idea what had possessed her to trail a finger down Henry’s chest in that last take.

Actually, that was a lie. She knew exactly what it was: it was Lenore. Lenore the Lady-Ghost had possessed her, had pounced on an idea that would have made Audrey blush to even  _think_  about, and before she knew it, Audrey’s hand was moving of its own volition (of  _Lenore’s_  volition) and dragging a finger through her co-star’s healthy crop of chest hair.

The director loved it, of course, so now she had to keep doing it for continuity. There was nothing for it but to surrender herself completely to the Spirit of Lenore just to avoid her Audrey-embarrassment. Okay maybe not  _completely_ , because the Spirit of Lenore was thinking some things about getting him out of those wet clothes.  _(God sees everything, Lenore!)_

_Okay. Balance. Find a balance.  
_

_And whatever you do, don’t stare at his chest between takes._


	41. Inhibitions (KitR)

Audrey picked up her second glass of wine from the bar. She’d been milling about the party aimlessly, half-hoping, half-fearing that the alcohol she was drinking would start lowering her inhibitions soon. She alternated between awkward conversations with various cast and crew members and texting Cat about how awkward the conversations were. As of yet, she hadn’t talked with Henry.

Which was weird, right? Because they were the effing  _leads_. (No, she was not tipsy enough to use real swear words in her thoughts yet.) But he was always in conversations with other people, and Audrey was never the kind of person who could slip into an ongoing conversation gracefully. Like how do you even  _do_  that? The best Audrey could ever do was try to nod and laugh along with what was being said, while inside, she felt like an impostor, like everyone else was wondering what  _she_  was doing here.

And things were weird enough with him. She didn’t want to add another kind of awkward to the list.

Three conversations later (assistant to the assistant director, makeup artist, and the woman playing Elizabeth, respectively), Audrey returned to the bar for her third glass of wine, and when she turned around, Henry was right in front of her.

Audrey narrowly avoided spilling wine on herself. “Hi!” she nearly yelped.

She winced and took a healthy-sized sip of wine.

"Hey," he said. He had such lovely hazel eyes. They looked kind of green in this light. "So, how about this party, huh?"

"Yeah, those stuffed mushrooms are really fantastic."

Henry nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I like food.”

Audrey immediately burst out laughing (there went her inhibitions, apparently…). After all, how many times had she heard James and Lily’s famous “I hate food” story? And the parallel… it was all just too ridiculously appropriate.

Henry was still smiling, but his eyebrows knitted together in a politely confused expression.

And Audrey realized she couldn’t say anything about why she was laughing because James and Lily  _still_  weren’t public with their relationship (I mean what the eff? Those idiots were  _this close!_ ), so all she could do was wave her free hand vaguely and mumble a “Nevermind” and extricate herself as quickly as possible to the opposite side of the room while blushing furiously and wondering if she would  _ever_  just have a normal interaction with that man.

_I am a human disaster_ , she texted Cat.

_Let me guess,_  Cat texted back.  _Henry?_

_Ugh yes  
I blame James and Lily_


	42. Sympathetic, Floppy Ears (KitR)

A dog is better than a diary. First of all, a living, breathing creature is a much better listener than a blank piece of paper will ever be, and a dog in particular is really adept at looking at you with those kind, sympathetic eyes that just make you feel like you’re being heard, understood, and cared for. Secondly, there’s no discoverable record of the things you say to a dog. Despite what that idiotic Busch’s baked beans commercial will have you believe, even if a dog  _could_  talk, it would never ever  _ever_  betray your confidence. There’s a completely transparent love and admiration in a dog’s face that makes you trust in their absolute loyalty, that makes you know with certainty that secrets entrusted to them will be kept safe.

And where the sympathetic, floppy ear of one dog was great, the sympathetic, floppy ears of  _three_  dogs were even better, so Henry has found. 

Bridget, Cecily, and LuLu were sisters. Litter mates, in fact. When Henry’s buddy Paul’s dog Miranda had given birth to seven puppies (he kept _meaning_  to have her spayed, but never got around to it until it was too late), Henry volunteered to adopt Bridget. And as the weeks passed and Paul had gotten more desperate to find homes for the puppies, Henry’s natural generosity and love of dogs had gotten the better of him, and he ended up with Cecily and LuLu as well.

"I mean, I don’t want to be upset with you guys," Henry said as he sat next to the cushion that had become a temporary doggy sick bay, feeding Bridget her specially-prescribed food (LuLu had a different prescribed food, and he’d be feeding her next), "but you are kind of ruining my chances with her."

Cecily whined at him from across the room.

"And you’re no better," he said sternly to the only dog of his that was currently in good health, the only one he’d taken for a walk this afternoon. "I could have gone in to talk to her if it weren’t for you. But who am I kidding? I probably would have said the wrong thing like I always do."

Bridget finished the last of her meal, and Henry went back into the kitchen to retrieve LuLu’s food from the fridge. Cecily followed him in, mournful-eyed and nudging Henry’s hand with a wet nose. Henry gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Oh, don’t listen to me. You’re a good girl.” Cecily’s eyes brightened and she gave her tail a tentative wag.

"You’re all good girls," he said to the apartment at large. "But I really would have liked to have gone to that party."

He carried LuLu’s food back to sick bay. “You know, just to see what it’s like, being around her without the cameras and the publicity, in her own space.” He lifted the lid off the container. “How do you think she’d decorate an apartment? She probably has a much better eye for that kind of thing than I do.”

LuLu sniffed at her food, then pulled back and gave Henry an affronted look. She could probably smell the crushed children’s Tylenol mixed in. ”I know, I know,” Henry sighed, “it’s horrible. But it’ll help ease the pain. And maybe you should have considered the consequences before you ate my phone.” LuLu gave a long-suffering sigh of her own and began to eat as Henry gently stroked her head.

"Well, I guess I was due for an upgrade anyway."

Cecily came and laid her head on his knee. And Henry knew, as he always did, that he would gladly go through a great deal of trouble and self-deprivation just to have his girls with him at the end of the day.


	43. Sounding Familiar? (KitR)

"So let me get this straight," Cat said. "After several films together in which you have kissing scenes in the rain, he shows up on your doorstep, again in the rain… is this sounding familiar to you?"

"Shut up," Audrey stuck her tongue out at her computer camera. "It was totally different. No ukulele involved."

"But it was kinda the same," Cat persisted. "I’m convinced there’s a particular brand of Porter sibling charm that’s activated by falling water."

"It’s different, okay?" Audrey was starting to feel upset, more upset than the usual teasing from Cat warranted. "There was no ukulele and nobody sang ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and my entire life is not an imitation of my brother’s."

Cat caught on. “Oh, Audrey, that’s not what I—” She paused. “Look, anyone who’s around you dorks for more than five seconds can see that you’re not the same as James and Lily. It’s just… you know… a weird coincidence.”

Audrey nodded, still not sure she was feeling placated.

"Anyway, you’ve got one thing on your brother."

"What’s that?"

"It took James and Lily six films before they smushed faces off-screen. You and Henry managed it in four."

Audrey laughed.


	44. Ignoring It (NMTD)

"…and for that we need to find the atomic weight, so let’s go  _PT cruising_ …”

Their chem teacher made exaggerated arm-wavey motions toward the oversized periodic table plastered over the side wall of the classroom. Beatrice rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t she just say “let’s consult the periodic table” like any other sane human being?

In the course of her eyeroll, Bea’s eyes fell on Benedick, who was smiling at her a little too broadly, trying a little too hard to share a joke. She responded with her best unimpressed glare and turned her eyes back toward her notebook.

Ben-the-dick had been enough to deal with, but Ben-with-a-staggeringly-obvious-crush? was taking things to a whole new level of weird, and not just because he was being so incredibly  _Ben_  about it, but because it made her remember how things used to be.

Here he was at every opportunity trying to strike up the kind of banter she used to find enjoyable. The kind of banter that, a few years ago, had started her heart beating quicker and set a fire in her stomach that led her to the realization that she was in the midst of her first crush. Things had gotten so much easier for her once she had chased him off into an affronted silence, but now she had to be on her guard again. Twice already, she’d found herself slipping into the easy, yet heated back-and-forth typical of their old conversations, and  _it had to stop_.

Because here was the thing. Back when she was fourteen, she hadn’t yet had time to decide her stance on this whole dating-guys thing. But now she’d seen enough of her friends start dating, and she knew that this whole dating situation was just completely antithetical to everything she wanted for herself at this point in her life. She wanted to focus on classes and hanging out with her awesome friends, not being stuck with one person all the time, kissing and holding hands (ewww!) and saying mushy sentimental things about how much you like them.

So, she decided as the bell rang and the teacher called out a last-moment reminder about the homework due next week, she was just going to ignore it until it went away. And if seeing Ben every day pulled at an achy spot in her gut, she’d ignore that too.


End file.
